October is a strange month on stream. The lights get dimmer, the sound effects get louder, and suddenly everything is definitely haunted, even if it wasn't five minutes ago. This year we leaned fully into it by streaming in the Twitch Fright Fest category for Spooktober, which meant spooky games, Halloween chaos, and chat being given just enough power to become dangerous.
Some of that power was used responsibly. Some of it absolutely was not.
We kicked things off with Sons of the Forest, where the plan was "progress the story" and the reality was "become increasingly obsessed with base building." We ended up constructing a genuinely massive base that was structurally impressive, tactically questionable, and wildly over-engineered for how little actual game progression happened. Classic survival game priorities: walls first, answers later.
One of the standout surprises of the month was The Cabin Factory, which turned out to be perfect for stream chaos. Chat got to decide whether the cabins were haunted and, more importantly, whether I was about to die. This created a very specific atmosphere where I was trying to analyse environmental clues while knowing full well that democracy might have already sentenced me.
We also played Little Nightmares for the first time, which introduced me to the concept of "death loops as a personality trait." The game is beautiful, unsettling, and extremely good at teaching you the same lesson repeatedly until it finally sinks in. Watching me fail in increasingly inventive ways became part of the entertainment.
Alongside that, we dipped into Limbo and Inside. These were a different kind of spooky—quiet, bleak, and deeply uncomfortable in a way that sticks with you. Less screaming, more silent dread. The vibes were immaculate, as the youths probably say.
Not every revisit hit the same way. I briefly returned to Phasmophobia and Demonologist, only to discover that they no longer scared me. They're still great games, but whatever part of my brain used to panic has clearly been replaced with mild professional detachment.
The studio itself was fully dressed for the occasion. Halloween decorations everywhere, spooky lighting, and a themed "dropping items" redeem set to a Thriller remix. That redeem is now living on borrowed time as we move fully into copyright-free music territory. The spirit will survive, even if the soundtrack must change.
And then there was the Grand Annual Pumpkin Carving Ceremony.
Chat was meant to choose the tools. I was meant to obey. Instead, I slowly ignored increasingly cursed suggestions because I wanted the pumpkin to actually look good. This has resulted in a ruling for next year: there will be two Grand Annual Pumpkin Carving Ceremonies. One full chaos pumpkin where chat chooses the tools and we embrace the mess, and one where I'm allowed to take my time and make something genuinely decent. Yes, this contradicts the word "annual." I'm comfortable with that.
Spooktober this year was less about being scared and more about shared rituals, running jokes, and watching fear slowly give way to competence and nonsense. Which, honestly, feels very on brand. 🎃